Conjuring WrathSeven Deadly #3
I wasn’t the mute darkness before every bad storm. I was what lived in the chaos that followed.Excerpt:
The age of the Reapers has ended.
With the new threat of the Harvesters and the approaching end, the troubles are here to stay.
Barron Reaper, the bearer of wrath, knows that more than anyone. With the sin of rage in his veins, his life is a chaotic mess of gloom. The vicious immortal has never stopped or relaxed a moment in all his years to feel hope. Especially not when another problem arises on top of everything else. An old demon tradition is being brought back on the blood moon.
The worlds are crumbling around his feet, but that doesn’t stop fate from forcing them together.
Gwendolyn Dolson is stuck in a hospital waiting on a chance at life that she will never get when she witnesses a cloaked figure slip through a patient’s door. Seconds later, a man dies in that room.
This dying girl is about to find out how drastically life can change.
“Wait,” she mumbled. “How does this work?”
“Scared?” My lips tipped upward.
“Do you really just disappear? Is that what we’re going to do?” She pushed a palm against me. “Jesus, why are you so big?”
She barely came up to my pecs, and now she was patting her hand along the hard ridges of my abs not having a clue that she was petting wrath. Delicate fingers traced over my shirt. Her small curious touch seeped through the fabric, tingling and heating every inch of skin she outlined. There I went again, being oddly overwhelmed by her. I pushed her hand away, distancing myself from the sensations she stirred. She was so small next to me. How could something so tiny affect me?
“Is that an eight pack?” Her nails dug into my abdomen as she started counting, not bothered that I had already pushed her fingers away once.
Fucking Hades! She was the little engine that never shut up.
“Scared?” My lips tipped upward.
“Do you really just disappear? Is that what we’re going to do?” She pushed a palm against me. “Jesus, why are you so big?”
She barely came up to my pecs, and now she was patting her hand along the hard ridges of my abs not having a clue that she was petting wrath. Delicate fingers traced over my shirt. Her small curious touch seeped through the fabric, tingling and heating every inch of skin she outlined. There I went again, being oddly overwhelmed by her. I pushed her hand away, distancing myself from the sensations she stirred. She was so small next to me. How could something so tiny affect me?
“Is that an eight pack?” Her nails dug into my abdomen as she started counting, not bothered that I had already pushed her fingers away once.
Fucking Hades! She was the little engine that never shut up.
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As a kid, she was that cousin, that friend, that sister and daughter, the talker who could spin a tale and make-believe into any little thing so it was no surprise when she found love in reading, and figured all these characters inside her head needed an outlet. They wanted to be heard, so she wrote.
The voices keep growing faster than she gets the time to write.
The stories are never going to end. That’s perfectly okay, though. We never want to stop an adventure.
She writes and loves many different genres so sign up to her mailing list to keep updated on her releases!
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